


Toujours Pur

by JannaElizabeth93



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Child Abuse, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-04 22:55:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6678766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JannaElizabeth93/pseuds/JannaElizabeth93
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius, Regulus, and Andromeda Black. 1971-1993.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Toujours Pur

**September 1971**

_ Straighten your back, square your shoulders _ , Sirius heard Andromeda’s voice remind him as he climbed out of the boat after James, his new friend. They couldn’t really see because it was so dark, but the giant man who had said his name was Hagrid was holding up a lantern, and that helped. James glanced over his shoulder, and when he grinned at Sirius, Sirius realized that James had been trying to look for him, and that made him feel better.

Hagrid stumped up the bank, and James and Sirius and everyone else followed him. Most people were whispering nervously, but Sirius swallowed hard, rehearsing -- again -- the speech he was ready to give the Sorting Hat if he had to. He didn’t want to be in Slytherin. He didn’t want to be around all his cousins, the cousins who were exactly like their parents, the ones who smirked at him and whispered behind their hands and talked about how he was a freak, he was too loud, he would grow into some kind of monster if he wasn’t stopped. He wanted to get away from all of that, all of them, and he knew he’d never make it if the hat put him in Slytherin.

Sirius shook his hair out of his eyes as he looked up at the castle again. The windows were little gleaming jewels and the towers soared up, up, up. James leaned in close to Sirius. “That one there,” he whispered excitedly, pointing, “the West Tower, that’s Gryffindor Tower! My dad told me.”

Sirius nodded and tried to smile and thought about the Slytherin common room. Bellatrix said it was underground, in the dungeon, and that sometimes the Giant Squid broke through the windows and ate people that annoyed it.  _ “Maybe I’ll come back to school just to feed you to it,” she snickered. Sirius’s mother, sitting on the sofa beside her, laughed too _ .

Hagrid pounded on the door three times, and then it was quiet for a second. Sirius thought that everyone was holding their breath as they waited. Then the doors creaked open, and a tall, thin woman in a pointed witch’s hat was standing there, surveying them all.

“The Firs’ Years, Professor McGonagall,” said Hagrid, waving a massive hand at them.

Professor McGonagall nodded briskly. “Thank you, Hagrid. I shall take it from here.” She beckoned them, and they all started shuffling up the steps to follow her. “This is the entrance hall,” she told them all as she led them in. Sirius stared around, his eyes wide. Andi had told him about the portraits, and the grand marble staircase, but Sirius hadn’t pictured it as  _ big _ as this. He heard someone whisper “wow” softly, and he turned to see the redhead girl from the train craning her hair up to look at the arches in the ceiling. The greasy boy next to her, the one Sirius had decided to call Snivellus, adjusted his sleeves and was making a face like he was trying hard not to look interested. Sirius could tell. He’d done it enough times.

“Hurry along.” Professor McGonagall swept towards another grand set of wooden doors, and the huddled crowd with Sirius in the middle scurried after her. They all entered the Great Hall, and Sirius gasped. The ceiling really  _ was _ enchanted to look like the sky outside. It was so starry and so close, and out of habit Sirius started picking out the constellations.  _ Orion, Bellatrix, Castor, Cygnus, Sirius. You are made of the same materials as stars. Never forget it. _

Sirius looked away from the ceiling.

Professor McGonagall was leading them down the middle of the long tables, and Sirius tried to figure out which one was the Slytherin table, so he could find Andi. He had to crane his head to look over the Ravenclaws and try hard not to make eye contact with any of his other cousins, and his heart beat a little faster as he got closer and closer to the front of the hall and he still couldn’t find her.

But then there she was, and Sirius sighed in relief and thought that he should have figured that she’d be close to the front, because she was a seventh year prefect. She was sitting up really tall in her seat too, like she had been looking for him, and when he met her eyes she smiled and tapped the underside of her chin.  _ Straighten your back, square your shoulders _ . Sirius smiled back at her and stiffened his spine, feeling a little better as he faced the front.

Professor McGonagall was standing before the High Table with a long parchment scroll in her hand. Next to her was a stool that a dirty, tattered old hat was sitting on. “D’you think that’s it?” James hissed in his ear. “The Sorting Hat?”

Sirius shrugged. “I was imagining something… cleaner,” he muttered back, and James clapped a hand to his mouth to smother his laugh. Sirius, pleased with himself, quieted down as Professor McGonagall again stared down at them all.

A rip near the brim of the hat opened wide, and the hat began to sing, but Sirius only caught a few words of the song -- something about cooperation or the school’s history -- because he had just remembered that he was going to be one of the first ones called.  _ Not Slytherin, _ he thought, over and over, crossing his fingers inside the sleeves of his robes.

The hat finished, and the students behind them and the teachers at the High Table burst into applause. Professor McGonagall waited for it to die down before she spoke again. “When I call your name,” she instructed, unfurling the scroll, “you will be so kind as to step forward and take your seat on the stool, placing the hat upon your heads. Now… Ackner, Moses.”

A boy almost as dark as James tripped his way forward and sat on the stool, and Professor McGonagall set the hat on his head. A few seconds of silence, and then -- “HUFFLEPUFF!” the hat shouted, and the table second from the right burst into applause behind Sirius. Moses Ackner lifted the hat from his head and handed it back to Professor McGonagall before scurrying off to join his new house. Sirius wiped his sweaty palms on his robes.

The second person that Professor McGonagall called was Celeste Avalon, a French girl Sirius knew because his parents were friends with her parents. He liked her sometimes – only when Narcissa wasn’t around, so Celeste wouldn’t try to impress her. Celeste flounced her way up to the stool and sat primly upon it, and the hat had barely been placed on her dark brown curls when it shouted “RAVENCLAW!”

Sirius held his breath, expecting his name to be next, but instead -- “Bach, Hong-Yen!”

Sirius and James watched silently as a girl with stick-straight black hair walked forward to the stool and squeezed her eyes shut as Professor McGonagall placed the hat on her head. The hat was silent for almost a whole minute, and Sirius fidgeted, wishing it would just get it over with. Finally, the hat yelled out, “GRYFFINDOR!”

The Gryffindors cheered for their first new house mate as she slipped the hat off and rushed off to join them, and Sirius stopped breathing, clenching his fists.  _ Not Slytherin _ .

“Black, Sirius!”

“Good luck, mate,” James whispered as Sirius started forward. The distance between him and the stool only seemed to get longer as he walked, and as he climbed the steps to the platform he saw Albus Dumbledore, surveying him quietly as he reached the stool. Sirius turned to take his seat, and the last thing he saw before the brim of the hat fell over his eyes was Andi, biting her lip anxiously as she watched him.

It was quiet for a moment, and then the low voice spoke in Sirius’s ear. “ _ Another Black, is it?” _

_ Yes,  _ Sirius thought.  _ But I don’t want Slytherin. _

_ “Oh really? _ ” the hat asked, and Sirius thought it was laughing at him.  _ “Too good for the house of your fathers, are you?” _

_ No, _ Sirius replied, defiant.  _ I just don’t want to be like them. _

_ “Like what, exactly?” _

Sirius faltered, and images floated through his mind. His father cuffing him about the head when he had asked if he and Reg could go play with the children who lived in the Muggle village in the valley below their country manor. His mother pointing her wand at the family tree tapestry to blast off his cousin Cedrella for marrying Septimus Weasley, a vicious snarl on her face. His grandmother hissing that his aunt Dorea was dirty, disgusting, for marrying a blood traitor. Bellatrix speaking of the rise of the wizard calling himself a Dark Lord with reverence in her voice.

_ “I see,” _ the hat said before Sirius could put any of his memories into words.  _ “You don’t want to take your place with them? It’s what you were born into.” _ Sirius didn’t reply, and the hat chuckled.  _ “You are a child. Rebelling for the sake of rebellion.” _

Sirius’s chin jutted out.  _ I am not. _

_ “Well, fortunately we have a place for people like you.” _ Sirius held his breath, but the next thing he heard was the hat shouting out to the whole hall. “GRYFFINDOR.”

He crumpled on himself, his whole body sagging in relief, as the applause broke out from the table to the far right of the hall. The light dazzled his eyes as Professor McGonagall lifted the hat from his head, and he blinked, disoriented. He looked down into the crowd of remaining first years, and James was clapping too, and when Sirius met his eyes, James let out a whoop that made the other first years turn and stare at him.

Sirius smiled and slid off the stool, walking to the Gryffindor table, away from the table full of his family members.

He was almost at the bottom of the stairs down from the platform when he looked over at the Slytherin table one last time. Andi’s hands were clasped and she was holding them to her mouth to hide her smile. When she saw Sirius looking at her, she shifted one of her hands to tap the bottom of her chin again. Sirius shot her a quick grin, straightened his back, and strode the rest of the way to the Gryffindor table like he meant it. “Well done,” a prefect congratulated him when he took a seat. Sirius smiled at her. She had kind eyes.

He didn’t manage to calm his breathing until the redhead girl from the train -- “Evans, Lily!” apparently -- was called forward. Sirius watched with interest as the hat sorted her into Gryffindor just barely a moment after it was placed on her head, and she paused to shoot a quick smile at someone still waiting their turn to be sorted before she walked briskly to the empty seat beside Sirius. He budged up to make room for her, but she recognized him from the train. She scowled and tossed her long hair and turned her back, and Sirius raised his eyebrows and laughed. It wasn’t like he’d been making fun of  _ her _ earlier, after all.

A few students later, a black boy answering to “Lupin, Remus” climbed the steps to the stool. Sirius watched him with interest. He could tell that the boy was wearing secondhand robes, and was taller and skinnier than almost everyone else, but he looked more calm than they all did -- certainly more calm than Sirius had felt. The boy barely moved as Professor McGonagall placed the hat on his head. The hat took a long moment to consider him, and Remus held completely still the entire time. Eventually, the tear in the hat opened wide and shouted, “GRYFFINDOR!” and Sirius applauded with the rest of his new house as Remus, smiling down at the floor now, quickly made his way to the open seat on Lily’s other side.

Two Slytherins and a Hufflepuff later, Professor McGonagall had finally reached the P’s, and Sirius sat up, craning his neck to get a view of James’s head of messy black hair. But Professor McGonagall didn’t call James’s name.

“Pettigrew, Peter” was a blond boy, fresh faced, who tripped over the hem of his robes on his way up to the stool and squeezed his eyes shut as Professor McGonagall placed the hat on his head. Sirius bit back a laugh. The hat took almost as long with Peter Pettigrew as it had with Sirius, and Peter squirmed with nerves for the whole wait, but finally the hat called out “GRYFFINDOR!” and Sirius joined in the applause as Peter scurried to the table. His hands were starting to hurt, but James had to be next.

Sure enough, Professor McGonagall called out “Potter, James!” and James took the steps to the platform two at a time before turning and plopping himself down on the stool. The hat barely touched his shock of black hair before it shouted “GRYFFINDOR!” and the table broke out into applause again. James barely waited for Professor McGonagall to retrieve the hat before he dashed over to the empty seat directly across from Sirius.

“Congratulations, mate!” James stage-whispered, grinning broadly as he folded himself onto the bench, and the prefect who had welcomed Sirius earlier made room for him on the bench with a smile. Sirius grinned back at James, finally letting himself relax and feel how his stomach was grumbling.

“You too,” said Sirius, before the prefects shushed them as the Sorting went on. Only a few students were left now. Lily the redhead got really still when Snivellus -- “Snape, Severus” -- was called up, and Sirius thought she looked disappointed when Snivellus was almost instantly sorted into Slytherin, but he decided not to worry about it. 

 

Finally, a girl named Lucy Williams was sorted into Hufflepuff, and Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the hat away. Professor Dumbledore stood up and spread his arms and smiled down at them all. “To our new students -- welcome!” he proclaimed. “To our old students -- welcome back! There is a time for speeches, but I shall save it until you have all been fed and your stomachs will not be distracting you. Dig in!”

**January 1972**

 

The only good thing that Christmas was when Andi came and took him to lunch, and even she had bad news for him. “Ted asked me to marry him,” she said, once they were settled into a booth in the back of a pub in Muggle London.

Sirius froze, his mug of cocoa halfway to his lips. “They’ll disown you.”

Andi sighed, brushing her dark hair from her eyes and tucking it behind her ear. “I know. That’s why I’m telling you before any of the others. I’m not even letting them know until June, when I finish school.”

“I mean.” Sirius put his cocoa down on the table and tried not to curl up small. “I’m really happy for you. I like Ted.”

“I know you do.” She smiled at him, and leaned across the table to take his hand in hers. Sirius let his hand lie there limp as he stared down. “Sirius, listen. You always have a place with me, all right? It’s going to be fine. I  _ will _ protect you.”

Sirius took a deep breath and tried to meet her eyes, but wound up staring at the ceiling instead. Her hand was warm around his.

“But I need you to listen to me,” she continued, and with her other hand she gently cupped Sirius’s chin and turned him to face her. When he met her eyes, she had been so earnest. “You have to do your best to look out for Regulus, okay? You’re young for me to be having this conversation with you, but I really think we can get him out if we try.”

“You’re leaving, though,” said Sirius, hollow.

Andi sighed, and softly tapped the bottom of Sirius’s chin. “Straighten your back. Square your shoulders,” she reminded him. “Don’t let them know they scare you. That’s always the first step. We both know how easy it could be to just fall in line with them, but this Voldemort character is gaining power and followers and I don’t want to see Orion and Walburga take Reg down that path. Don’t give up on him, Sirius. Keep talking to him while you’re home. Keep writing to him when you’re at school.”

“Mother and Father read my letters to him.”

“I know, but what you say matters less than the fact that you’re saying it, I reckon.” Andi leaned back to her own side of the table as the barman came and placed their food in front of them. She kept silent until he was gone again. “Just don’t give up on him,” she repeated, and half-smiled. “Who knows. He may be the second-ever Black to not make it into Slytherin.”

 

**September 1973**

“You never know,” James said reasonably, as the four of them fell in with the crowd of returning students spilling from the entrance hall to the Great Hall. “Maybe he’s been listening to you more than your mum.”

Sirius snorted without looking at him. “James, you’ve met my mum.”

“Fair point.”

The Great Hall was once again decorated for the welcome feast, and as they walked along the Gryffindor table, James received slaps on the back from other members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team who were already seated. Out of habit, Sirius glanced across the Hall to the Slytherin table to look for Andi, even though she had graduated two years ago. Instead, he saw Narcissa, sitting primly with her friends. Apparently she was going to marry Lucius Malfoy when she finished school at the end of this year.

“James has a point, though,” Remus said quietly as they all took their seats -- James and Remus on one side of the table, Sirius and Peter on the other. Remus looked tired and sick, the way he always did for the first few days after a full moon. Sirius wished the rest of them could figure out this whole Animagus thing faster. This year, he promised himself. “You may have had a bigger impact on Regulus than you realize.”

“And after all, everyone was expecting you to be sorted into Slytherin until you weren’t,” Peter added, and Sirius couldn’t help but laugh. Peter had started out as more Remus’s friend than his and James’s, but now Sirius couldn’t imagine their group without him.

The rest of the returning students filed in and took their seats, and James fidgeted. “God, I’m starving.”

“You’re always starving,” Remus said absently, withdrawing the stack of chocolate frog cards he’d accumulated on the train from his pocket and sorting through them. “Peter, you needed an Anne Boleyn, yeah?”

Peter nodded enthusiastically and reached across the table for the card just as the doors to the entrance hall opened again, and Sirius craned his neck up as Professor McGonagall led in the gaggle of first years, looking terrified as they stared around at their new surroundings.

“They’re tiny,” Peter remarked under his breath.

“You’re the shortest one here,” Sirius hissed back, his eyes combing the crowd for Regulus.

He finally found him, his hair combed in the way that Sirius had stopped having patience for long ago, walking tall like their parents had taught them, looking neither left or right. Sirius tried to catch his eye, but whether Regulus was ignoring him on purpose or not, he didn’t look over to the Gryffindor table. Sirius sagged back in his seat, but only for a moment.  _ Straighten your back, square your shoulders _ .

The last two years had been… rough. He had put off writing to his parents for as long as he could first year, to delay telling them that he was in Gryffindor, but they had found out anyway (Sirius still thought that it was from Narcissa but he’d never been able to prove it). His mother had sent a Howler, and thank God James had seen it coming and they’d been able to run it out of the Great Hall before it went off. The rest of the fall term had been spent in a stony silence until his father’s secretary had sent a message telling Sirius to expect to be picked up from King’s Cross for the Christmas holiday.

Reg, who had been nine at the time, had shouted “Sree!” and raced down the staircase, grinning, when their father had walked Sirius into the London house. But Regulus skidded to a stop at the bottom, wiping the smile off his face, and shot a fearful look at their father. Sirius had looked up to see Orion glaring at Regulus, and felt something freeze in his own insides.

 

“His name is Sirius,” Orion had said to Regulus, his voice cold, and Regulus had nodded.

“Sirius,” Peter hissed, and Sirius was jolted back to the present. “It’s starting.”

Sirius blinked and shook his head to clear it as McGonagall called forward “Avila, Diana!” A few moments later, the hat placed her in Gryffindor. Remus, James, and Peter clapped along with the rest of the table, but Sirius’s hands were clenched into fists as he waited.

“Black, Regulus!”

Sirius held his breath and hid his crossed fingers inside the sleeves of his robes as his little brother slowly climbed the stairs to the platform. Sirius caught his eye for just a moment when Regulus turned to sit on the stool, but Regulus’s face was expressionless, and then his eyes were covered by the brim. Barely a moment passed, and then -- “SLYTHERIN!”

“No,” Sirius whispered, but across the hall the people at the Slytherin table erupted in applause, and when McGonagall plucked the hat from Regulus’s head he slid off to join them, a satisfied smile on his face that suddenly made him look so much like their father, and went to join them. He did not look back at Sirius.

“It’ll still be fine, though,” James tried to reassure him. “Andi was a Slytherin. She turned out all right.”

“It didn’t even need to think about it, James,” Sirius mumbled, slumping back into his seat. Peter patted his forearm.

McGonagall was already calling the next student forward when Remus spoke again, quietly. “I don’t think you’ve lost him yet, though. But if you keep acting like you already have, that’s it. Here.” He’d found an unopened chocolate frog and slid it across the table to Sirius.

“Thanks.” Sirius took a deep breath and thought about what Remus had said. It really wasn’t over. Sirius would just have to try harder, that was all.  _ Straighten your back, square your shoulders. _

**July 1976**

 

“I still can’t believe Ted let you name her Nymphadora,” Sirius laughed as the three-year-old girl with the electric blue hair chased her father around the garden.

 

Andi smiled fondly at her husband and child. “It’s a lovely name. She’ll grow into it. And anyway --” she turned to him with raised eyebrows “--  _ let  _ me? I don’t need anyone’s permission to do anything, Sirius.”

 

He held his hands up in surrender and took another swig of his butterbeer. “My apologies.”

 

Eventually she smiled at him again and reached her foot down to the porch so that the swing that the two of them were sitting on began to rock gently. “How has it been this summer?” she asked quietly.

 

Sirius sighed and tipped his head so that it rested on the back of the swing. “Reg won’t speak to me at all. He’s gone a lot.”

 

“So are you,” Andi pointed out. “You said earlier that you’ve seen more of James’s parents than you have of your own.”

 

“Yeah.” Sirius watched as Ted let Nymphadora catch him and tackle him to the ground. “You told me not to give up on him, Andi. I really tried not to.”

 

Andi was quiet for a long moment, staring out at her family. “We do what we can,” she finally murmured. “Narcissa never responded to the wedding invitation. Or the birth announcement. And she returned the wedding gift I sent her. Unopened.” She faced Sirius again and reached out to shove his hair off his forehead. “You need a haircut.”

 

Sirius let her hand drop down to his shoulder. “D’you think there’s going to be a war?”

 

“Yes,” Andi whispered, squeezing his shoulder. “I really do.”

 

Sirius nodded. “I want to fight.”

 

“I know you do.” Andi shifted her body so that she was facing Sirius on the swing. “Sirius, I need you to stay alive, though. Please. Do everything you can to live to fight another day.”

 

He shrugged. “I care less about that.”

 

“Yeah, well, I don’t.”

 

Before Sirius could respond, Ted strode towards them, Nymphadora slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Isn’t it time for b -- a -- t -- h for this one?” he asked Andi lightly.

“I know what that means!” shrieked Nymphadora from where she hung upside down, her face turning steadily redder. “It means baff! You can’t trick me!”

 

“It does indeed.” Andi stood with a smile and scooped Nymphadora to her, flipping her right side up in the process.

 

Sirius rose too. “I should head out.”

 

Andi passed her daughter to him. “Nymphadora, say goodnight to your Uncle Sirius.”

 

“Unca See, don’t go!” Nymphadora wailed, hooking her arms around his neck as he held her. “If you go I hafta take a baff!”

 

Sirius laughed and situated her on his hip so he could meet her eyes. Today they matched Ted’s, a kind, soft brown. “But if I save you,” he whispered dramatically, “then your mum will give  _ me _ a bath too! And I’m scared of that!”

 

“Yes, thank you, Sirius,” Andi snapped as Ted laughed. “Nymphadora, kiss Sirius goodbye.” 

 

Nymphadora stretched up in Sirius’s arms and wetly smooched his cheek before leaning back to inspect her work. Sirius kissed her forehead before handing her back to her mother, and Andi shifted her to one hip and reached her other arm out to fold Sirius into a hug. 

 

“Straighten your back. Square your shoulders,” she whispered into his ear, and he realized with something like sadness that he was now so much taller than her that she had to stand on tiptoe. “It will all be okay. We’ll all come out of this.”

 

“Yeah.” He kissed her head too before pulling away from her and turning to Ted. “Thanks for dinner, mate.”

 

“Of course, kid.” Ted grinned as he shook Sirius’s hand. “Get home safe.”

 

“I will.”  Sirius pulled one more face at Nymphadora before he stepped off the porch and made his way through the purple twilight back down the garden walk to the gate. As he stepped out he turned back and saw the three of them watching him. Ted put up his hand and Sirius waved back. Andi shifted Nymphadora on her hip to free one of her hands, and she held Sirius’s eyes as she tapped her fingertips to her chin. Sirius nodded once before taking a few more steps away from the gate and turning on the spot.

 

He had been Apparating without a license since Andi had taught him last Christmas, but he still hated the restrictive feeling of a rubber tube crushing him as he moved through space. He landed hard on the pavement in front of his parents’ London house, and sighed as he shrugged his leather jacket back into place. Hunching his shoulders, he looked down as he strode up to the front door of the house.

 

He eased the door open, listening intently for any sign of movement. Hearing none, he sighed in relief and stepped inside, only to freeze when his father’s voice echoed down from the first floor landing.

 

“Where have you been?”

 

Sirius swallowed hard and braced himself before he looked up. “Out.”

 

Orion smirked down his nose as he descended the stairs. “Walburga!” he called over his shoulder. “Your son is home.”

 

“Ha,” scoffed Walburga from somewhere above them, and Sirius could hear the floorboards squeak. He forced himself not to look down, to meet his father’s eyes as Orion approached him, and Sirius hated him in that moment, for giving him his eyes and his smirk and his voice. He balled his fists at his sides. 

 

“Where were you  _ out _ ?” Orion asked as Walburga came into view, strolling down the stairs and gliding her hand along the bannister. 

 

“Do you even need to ask him, Orion?” Walburga’s eyes glinted in the candlelight as she sized up her son. “He went to see my brother’s whore of a middle daughter. Her and her brat.”

 

Sirius felt his hackles go up. “Don’t call them that,” he spat.

 

Walburga advanced on him. “I shall call them whatever I want. God, you’re just like her. Arrogant. Ungrateful. A disgrace.” She sneered. “You stand there, so eager to hate us and everything we stand for, as if we did not make your world possible, Sirius. You owe us your whole life.”

 

Sirius laughed once. “Yeah. Thanks.”

 

“You’ll not see her again,” said Orion, and Sirius had always feared his father’s anger more than his mother’s, because it was so cold. “No son -- no heir -- of mine will mix with blood traitors.”

 

_ Straighten your back, square your shoulders _ . “You can’t stop me.”

 

It happened before Sirius could react to it -- his father took two steps forward and then slapped him with an open palm across the temple, hard enough to snap Sirius’s head around on his neck and send him staggering into the mirror hanging on the wall beside the wardrobe. He clenched his eyes shut as he felt the glass shatter against his skin. 

 

Disoriented, he dragged himself back up against the wall and faced his father, breathing hard, left eye throbbing, blood trickling down his right temple. His father’s face hadn’t changed. “No son of mine,” Orion repeated.

 

Sirius staggered back to his feet. “Fine,” he said, his voice hoarse, and he shoved away from the wall for the stairs. 

 

“Get back here!” Walburga shouted, but he brushed past her and raced up the stairs, blinking blood out of his eyes, using the bannister to haul himself up faster.

 

He was running by the time he reached the third floor landing, and he flung himself past Regulus’s closed door and into his own room, slamming the door and leaning against it, panting. He couldn’t focus, he couldn’t settle, he couldn’t breathe --  _ no son of mine _ . 

 

He had to get out, he realized, dragging a hand down his face. He had to leave. His eyes darted wildly around his room. But he couldn’t go back to Andi’s -- his parents would punish her for it, and her daughter was only three. 

 

Suddenly, his gaze fell on the photo of four boys he’d stuck to his headboard, and the world settled just slightly around him.

 

James. 

 

Sirius forced himself to breathe, inhaling two huge gulps of air, before he pushed himself away from the door and pointed his wand at the armchair that sat in the corner. It floated towards him and he braced it against the door, He shook his hair back from his face and slowly made his way to the two-way mirror lying on his nightstand. His hand was trembling as he picked it up and held it to his face. “J-James Potter.”

 

It took a moment for James to respond, but it felt longer. But when he did, his face floating into the glass, Sirius sighed in relief.

 

Before he could say anything, James blanched. “What the fuck happened to your  _ face _ ?” he demanded, and Sirius reached up to touch where his left eye was swelling.

 

“My… my dad.”

 

“He hit you?” James asked loudly, and the picture in the mirror shook, and Sirius knew James was moving and moving fast as he looked away from Sirius. “Amma!  _ Amma! _ Orion hit Sirius and he’s bleeding!”

 

Although Sirius couldn’t see her, he could hear Eshnaa Potter’s horrified voice. “What?”

 

And then James’s face was back, fully focused on Sirius. “Get your trunk. Come here. We’re in the country house, in Devon -- you were here last summer? Can you Apparate all that way?”

 

“I’m gonna try.” Sirius kept a firm grip on the mirror with one hand while he drew his wand with the other, and started charming his possessions to fly across the room and land haphazardly into the trunk that sat open at the end of his bed. He thought he could hear something out in the hall, and he moved faster, trying to remember all his textbooks, his potions kit, the Rolling Stones shirt he’d gotten at a concert that Lily had taken him to last Easter break. 

 

And then the trunk was full, and Sirius flicked his wand at it so that the lid fell forward and the lock clicked shut. “All right.” He took a deep breath and lifted the mirror again. “I guess… I’m heading out now?”

 

James nodded decisively. “We’ll see you soon. Hurry.”

 

“Yeah.” Sirius pocketed the mirror and hefted his trunk up by the handle. He pointed his wand at the chair and it slid away from the door again, and Sirius eased back out onto the landing, his wand still drawn. He didn’t see anybody.

 

He had already crossed the landing and climbed down the first two stairs, his trunk sliding behind him, when he heard a door open. He stiffened, but it was Regulus who spoke.

 

“So you’re going, then?”

 

Sirius turned and saw Regulus standing at the top of the steps, his face expressionless. “Yeah.”

 

Regulus nodded, and Sirius felt as if he were being studied, as if his brother was just now seeing him for the first time and didn’t quite know what to make of him. “If you go,” Regulus said slowly, “you can’t come back.”

 

Sirius swallowed hard. He could feel the blood beginning to dry on his face. “Reg…”

 

“Go, then,” Regulus shrugged, and he turned away, and strode back across the landing to his room. Sirius winced when he heard the door fall shut.

 

He stood there where Regulus had left him for one more moment before he shook himself and tightened his hold on his trunk. The thumping sounds it made as he dragged it down with him almost seemed to echo in the dark house, but his parents were nowhere in sight. In the ground floor hall, the shards of the smashed mirror still littered the floor, and Sirius strode past them to the front door. He did not look back as he stepped outside.  _ Straighten your back, square your shoulders. _

 

Night had fully fallen, but the orange glow of the street lamps washed the pavement of all its color as Sirius strode down the street, knowing he needed to get far enough away from the house that all its protective enchantments couldn’t touch him. He kept his wand drawn and didn’t bother trying to find a place to hide to Disapparate, because what did it matter anymore? He reached the end of the block, panting now with the weight of his trunk, and turned on the spot, gripping the strap and focusing on the memory of the Potter manor house.

 

He stumbled a bit when he landed on the unpaved road that led up to the manor, but he caught himself and shook his hair back from his eyes in time to see James rushing towards him. Fatapal Potter followed close behind him, lit wand aloft. James pulled Sirius into a quick, rough hug, and Sirius squeezed his eyes shut, ignoring the pain that shot through the cuts on his temple.

 

When James released Sirius, he held him at arm's length and inspected his face. “Damn,” he hissed. “Appa, are you seeing this?”

 

“Get his trunk, Jaipal,” his father instructed, and James squeezed Sirius’s shoulder before he reached down and took the trunk’s strap from him. Fatapal in his turn tenderly tilted Sirius’s head back and forth, inspecting each injury separately, before he lightly wrapped his arm around Sirius’s shoulder and began leading him up the walk. James fell in beside them.

 

When Sirius had first met James’s parents, on the King’s Cross platform at the end of their first year, James had cautiously introduced them by their English names, Fleamont and Euphemia, but Mrs. Potter had waved James away, told Sirius to call her Eshnaa Auntie, and said that the other names were only really for matters of business. James had never asked Sirius to use his Punjabi name, so he stayed James or, later, Prongs, but whenever Sirius was with the Potter family he could feel how much more comfortable James was in that world.

 

Sirius felt himself beginning to shake again as the three of them approached the manor doors, and Fatapal momentarily tightened his hold on Sirius’s shoulders. “You are safe here, son. I promise you.”

 

Eshnaa met them at the door, wrapped in a plain pink salwaar kameez, and when she pulled Sirius into her arms she smelled of coconut oil and warmth. He shuddered, trying not to cry.  _ Straighten your back, square your shoulders _ . 

 

“Come inside, bittu,” she said, releasing him and taking his hand before she turned to her husband. “Meri jaan, take his trunk upstairs to the blue bedroom and have the house elves make up the bed. Jaipal, come with us.”

 

Fatapal took the trunk from James and levitated it, and with one last pat to Sirius’s shoulder, he headed upstairs, lighting the lanterns along the staircase as he went. Eshnaa led Sirius into the drawing room, James trailing behind. “Sit.” She directed him to an armchair by the empty fireplace, and went to fetch a small jar, a mortar and pestle, and a sprig of lavender. James perched on the edge of a nearby sofa, hunched forward as he studied Sirius in concern.

 

“‘M all right,” Sirius reassured him. “‘M fine.”

 

James huffed and adjusted his glasses as Eshnaa pulled out the ottoman in front of Sirius’s chair and took a seat on it. “Here, bittu,” she said to James, handing him the mortar and pestle. “Grind some of the lavender seeds for me.” She faced Sirius now. “I’m going to touch your face, and I’m going to use my wand to clean some of this blood. Is that okay?”

 

Sirius nodded, and vaguely appreciated how slowly she was moving, so that he could clearly see her drawing her wand and pointing it at his face. Some part of him realized that James had his mother’s face, though he was lanky like his father. “ _ Tergeo _ .” He felt the dried blood flake off his skin. “Do you mind telling us what happened? It may help me treat this.”

 

“Er.” Sirius cleared his throat. “My father hit me -- I think with an open palm -- on my left, and it knocked me into a mirror.”

 

Eshnaa didn’t react except to nod, but Sirius heard James hiss. “All right,” said Eshnaa. “Let me check if there’s any glass in the wound. If there is, you’ll feel some pain when I pull it out. Bittu,” she added, speaking to James without turning away from Sirius, “if you’re done with the lavender seeds, open the potion and mix it in, please. I want a pasty consistency.”

 

Fatapal entered the drawing room just as Eshnaa finished extracting the few shards of glass in Sirius’s wound, and Sirius’s neck was stiff with the effort of not flinching. “Your room is all ready, Sirius,” he said quietly, “and just so we’re all clear on this at the outset, you never have to go back to your parents’ house if you don’t want to.”

 

Sirius felt himself flush. “Sir, I… you don’t have to do that.”

 

Fatapal took the seat beside James. “Bittu, you say ‘sir’ and I look over my shoulder for my father,” he scolded, though there was no heat in it. “I know we don’t have to, but here we are anyway. I will ask, however, that you and James don’t leave the grounds for the next few days. I’m certain it won’t take Orion too long to realize that you’re here, Sirius, but let’s not make it any easier than it has to be. All right?”

 

James and Sirius both nodded, and Eshnaa took the paste James had made and began applying it to the left side of Sirius’s face. “Leave this on overnight,” she instructed him. “The bruise will be gone by the morning. I’ve already sealed the cuts.”

 

Sirius swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Thank you,” he ground out. “I mean. Not just for this. For…” he waved his hand, out of words. 

 

Eshnaa finished coating the paste over Sirius’s bruise. “It’s quite all right, bittu. There’s no need to thank us. Now,” she began packing her medical supplies up.  “How does that feel?”

 

Gingerly Sirius touched his own cheek, right below the skin covered by the paste. “Fine, I s’pose. Tender.”

 

Eshnaa nodded. “Good. But if it starts to burn, or to itch to the point of real discomfort, wash it off with clear water immediately, yes?” Sirius nodded. “Good. Now. Are you hungry?”

 

Sirius shook his head. “I ate earlier. At… at Andi’s.”

 

“I see.” Eshnaa exchanged a glance with Fatapal. “We’ll get word to her and let her know what’s happened, if you don’t mind. I’m sure you’ve already thought through what this may mean for her, not that it’s your fault at all.” She leaned forward and took his hand, making sure that she had his attention as she repeated, “It’s  _ not _ your fault, bittu.”

 

Throat tight, Sirius nodded, and Eshnaa smiled and clucked him under the chin. “You’re probably exhausted. Jaipal, take him up to his room, please. I know we have more to discuss, but I’m sure it can keep until the morning.” She turned to her son. “And I do want him to go straight to bed, Jaipal. I mean it.” 

 

“Yes, Amma.” James stood, and so did Sirius. Sirius waited while James kissed his mother on the forehead, and then James gently clapped Sirius on the shoulder as the two of them left the room.

 

Sirius appreciated the silence as they ascended the staircase together, and then James led him into the lamplit room that had been his the last time he had visited the Potter manor house.

 

Eshnaa had called it the blue room, and it was: the walls were papered in a powder blue but the bed was draped in navy hangings and covered in a matching duvet. His trunk had already been placed at the footboard, and somebody, likely one of the house elves, had opened it and withdrawn a pair of flannel pants and a T shirt that was probably clean and laid them out on the armchair by the window.

 

James scooped the pajamas up and tossed them at Sirius, then casually looked away while Sirius changed. Sirius winced as he noticed that his shoulder was sore from where it had hit the wall earlier, but he wasn’t going to say anything.

 

When Sirius had dressed, James kicked off his shoes and flopped on top of the bed covers. “So. You were at Andi’s, and… what?”

 

Sirius climbed up next to him and stared up at the bed’s canopy. “They knew I’d been there, somehow. I guess. I don’t know. But my father said that no son of his was going to mix with blood traitors.”

 

“And let me guess.” James’s voice was dry. “You said fine?”

 

Almost against his will, a laugh bubbled up in Sirius’s throat. “Yeah.”

 

“ _ Padfoot _ .”

 

“I know.”

 

“God.” James was silent for a moment, and then he asked, quieter, “Reg?”

 

Sirius sighed, and his head rolled so that he was staring at the inky black outside the window. “Told me if I left I couldn’t come back.”

 

“Shit,” James breathed.

 

“Yeah.” The prickling was back behind Sirius’s eyes.

 

“We’ll deal with it,” promised James, and Sirius didn’t have to turn to look at him to know that he meant it. “We will deal with it, Sirius. But tomorrow. You’ve dealt with enough shit for one day. Leave it for now.”

 

“Yeah.” 

 

As the oil in the lamp burned down, Sirius kept expecting James to sigh, and get up, and wish Sirius a good night, and go to his own room. But James didn’t move, and they both lay there in silence as Sirius felt himself drifting off. 

 

And when he woke with a start the next morning, sunlight was streaming in through the window, and James was still lying next to him, fully clothed and snoring loudly, glasses askew as a line of spittle slid its way out of his mouth.

 

**October 1976**

“Oh -- bloody hell,” Remus muttered as they stepped out of their Transfiguration class and into the middle of an uproar in the corridor. He shrugged off his backpack and shoved it at James, who caught it as Remus drew his wand and ran towards what looked like a mass duel. James, Sirius, and Peter were hot on his heels.

“OI!” Remus yelled, shooting sparks out of his wand into the air as he approached the duellers. “I’m a prefect! Break it up -- shit,” he gasped as a wild curse whizzed just past his ear. Immediately, Sirius drew his wand, and James dropped his bag and Remus’s, and suddenly Lily was there too with her own wand out, and they all dove in.

Sirius barely had time to realize that there were four duellers total before he hooked his arms around the chest of one of the Slytherins and dragged him backwards. To his left, James had the other Slytherin in a half nelson, but when the kid threw his head back and nailed James in the nose with an ominous cracking sound, Sirius realized that it was his little brother.

A few moments of scuffling later, Sirius heard Lily’s voice shout “ _ Enough! _ ” Sirius didn’t drop his Slytherin, and his Slytherin didn’t stop fighting him, but he did look over the kid’s head to see Remus restraining Conor Finnigan, the Gryffindor Keeper, and Lily’s hand braced against the shoulder of Brian Chenoweth, another Gryffindor fourth year. Whispering broke out among the staring crowd.

“Are we finished?” Lily snapped, glaring back and forth between the two groups.

“They called him a Mudblood,” Conor ground out, jerking his head towards Brian while still keeping his eyes fixed on the Slytherins. “Called me a blood traitor too.”

Lily sighed, and Sirius saw her shoulders droop just slightly. “You can’t be starting duels in the corridor. You two -- Brian, Conor -- five points each from Gryffindor.”

“Oh come on!” wailed Conor, and muttering broke out in the watching crowd again.

Brian wrenched away from Lily’s hand. “What about  _ them _ ?”

“Prefects can’t take points from other houses, can they?” spat the Slytherin Sirius was restraining, and he realized it was Volturnus Flint. “Mudblood bitch?”

Sirius tightened his grip on Flint’s windpipe just as James, glasses askew and blood streaming down his face from a clearly broken nose, shoved Regulus away from him and drew his wand. But before any of them could do anything else, Lily fired more sparks into the air. “Stop! I said that’s  _ enough _ .”

Slowly and cautiously, Remus released Conor and moved into the middle with Lily. “Clear out,” he said loudly, surveying the crowd around them. “All of you. Move along.” His eyes found Sirius’s. “Padfoot, let him go.”

Sirius glared. “Remus. He --”

“I heard him.” Remus’s face settled into stillness as it always did when he was denying himself the right to react. “But you have to let him go.”

Sirius swore under his breath but did as he was told, shoving Flint away from him. Flint, smirking, massaged his neck and backed away from Sirius. “You won’t last. None of you will.”

Sirius glared at him for another moment before turning away, his eyes finding Regulus. “What the hell was that?”

Regulus’s chin tilted up, and he did not speak. Sirius advanced on him and shoved him in the chest, hard enough that Regulus stumbled. “I asked you a question. What was that? Huh?”

“Don’t touch me.” Regulus righted himself and tugged at the lapels of his robes. “Don’t act like you’re not bringing this on yourself.”

Sirius hissed out a breath between his teeth. “Reg…”

Instantly, his brother’s eyes hardened. “Don’t call me that.” He spat onto the stone floor. “You don’t get to call me that anymore.”

And then James was there, beside Sirius. “Leave it,” he whispered.

Regulus stared Sirius down for one more moment before turning and and striding down the corridor. Sirius swallowed hard, aware that most of the crowd hadn’t heeded Remus’s order to disperse.  _ Straighten your back, square your shoulders _ .

“Right then. You,” James wiped at the blood on his face and pointed at Conor. “I’m not taking any points from you, but you owe me five laps of the Quidditch pitch tonight.”

Conor stared. “You can’t be serious. You almost decked him too.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t. And if you’d gotten detention and missed the Ravenclaw match on Saturday, I’d’ve had to pull Jordan from reserves, and we both know he’s not as good as you. So you owe me laps.”

Lily glanced around. “You’d better move along, Conor. I’m surprised McGonagall hasn’t heard and come to check on us yet.” As a glaring Conor shrugged and retreated, Lily turned to James. “You okay?”

James shrugged as Remus approached him and grasped him by the jaw. “I’ve had worse.” He paused as Remus pointed his wand at James’s nose and muttered “ _ Episkey, _ ” and James’s nose cracked back into place. “Ow. Thanks, Moony. Are  _ you _ okay, Evans?”

“Me?” Lily shrugged, then sighed. “I’m fine.”

Sirius snorted. “You don’t have to act like you don’t hate that Dumbledore put you in the position where you always have to  _ rise above _ this shit all the fucking time.” He looked over as Peter joined them, hoisting everyone’s bookbags. “And  _ you _ were useful.”

Peter shrugged and dropped the bags back on the floor. “You all had it under control.” He inspected Sirius. “You did what you could, mate. You tried.”

Sirius gazed over Peter’s shoulder down the corridor, even though Regulus was long gone. “Yeah. I s’pose.”

_ Straighten your back, square your shoulders _ .

**February 1979**

The group of them -- Sirius, James, Mary, Gideon, and Fabian -- were riding high on their own success as they tumbled into the Hogwarts entrance hall.

 

Using scraps of information obtained from Dumbledore’s mysterious network of spies, they had just managed to foil a Death Eater attack on a small Muggle village. They had gotten in early, performed every single protective charm they could think of, and then they had waited. When the Death Eaters had come, Bellatrix leading a group of seven, Sirius and the others had shot spells at them from their hiding places up in trees rather than engaging directly. It had been the most fun Sirius had had in a long time, needling Bellatrix in spells and watching her shriek in frustration as she hadn’t been able to see where they were coming from.

 

It felt almost like old times, wandering through the silent moonlit castle, James at his side, struggling to keep their laughter down so as not to disturb the portraits. On James’s other side, Mary stretched both her arms above her head and tipped her face back, her honey-colored hair almost silvery in the pale blue light streaming in through the windows. They were heading for the staffroom, the latest in a series of temporary meeting places for the Order of the Phoenix.

 

Then they heard footsteps behind them, and Remus’s voice shouting “Oi!” The five of them turned, and Peter, Remus and Lily were there, wandering up the corridor towards them. Lily skipped her way into James’s arms and planted a kiss on his lips. Peter, grinning, clapped Sirius on the shoulder. “I heard you ruined Bellatrix’s day.”

 

Sirius laughed and hooked an arm around Remus’s neck to ruffle his hair. “Force of habit, I guess.” Lily released James and pulled Mary into a hug as well, then each of the twins, before she reached Sirius, and he looped his other arm around her shoulders too.

 

These victories were few and far between, and allowing themselves to be giddy over them was one of the few pleasures they had left.

 

Remus ducked out from under Sirius’s arm, but Lily stayed attached to him, and they all started up the staircase between the second and third floors, as one jumping the trick step. James, at Peter’s request, had launched into a blow-by-blow account of the mission, adding all the vivid details that he wouldn’t be allowed to put into the official report.

 

But when they reached the third floor landing and saw Minerva McGonagall, her face grave, standing at the entrance to the staffroom, the laughter evaporated. Sirius and Gideon exchanged a worried glance. Had they missed something? Forgotten someone? Had their defensive spells not held on the village?

 

“Sirius,” Minerva said, and he stiffened and dropped his arm from Lily’s shoulders. “Albus asked me to send you up to his office. Now, please.”

 

Mary shifted so that she wasn’t standing in front of Sirius, and he swallowed hard. “What happened?” 

 

Minerva hesitated, then sighed. “Albus wants to tell you himself. Hurry along, please.”

 

“Right. Yeah.” Sirius caught James’s eye one last time, then backed away from the group, slowly turning so that he could head back to the staircase. He didn’t hear any of them move until he was out of sight. He could hear his blood pulsing in his ears. He hadn’t heard from Andi in a week… what if…

 

_ No. Straighten your back, square your shoulders _ . 

 

He barely noticed himself passing through the silent castle on his way to the headmaster’s tower, but suddenly he was there, and giving the password to the eagle, and taking the steps of the spiral staircase two at a time. It didn’t occur to him to knock before he reached for the doorknob, but it turned for him anyway, and he burst into the room, his heart in his throat.

 

But Andi was there, alone in the office, staring into the fire crackling orange in the hearth, and he sighed, sagging in relief against the door. Her head had snapped up when she heard the door open, and she strode to him, her face set. She wrapped her arms around him and he hugged her back just as tight, squeezing his eyes shut.

 

“I thought he was going to tell me you were dead.” Andi’s voice was muffled against his shoulder.

 

“Yeah.” He let her go, but she hooked her arm through his as they moved slowly towards the seating area by the hearth. “That’s what I thought too. Are Ted and Nymphadora okay?” It was really for the sake of her family that Andi always refused Dumbledore’s request that she become more active in the Order. She said because she was a blood traitor to one of the oldest and most powerful Wizarding families in England, and her husband was Muggle-born, it would be beyond irresponsible of her to expose her daughter to yet more danger by actively fighting alongside the Order of the Phoenix. Sirius didn’t like it, but he understood.

 

Andi nodded. “They’re fine. We’re all staying with Ted’s mother at the moment, actually.” She paused. “James and the others…?”

 

“I just saw them. They’re all downstairs.”

 

Andi closed her eyes and her face relaxed, but before either of them could say anything else, Albus Dumbledore walked through the door that Sirius had left open.

 

“Sirius, Andromeda,” he greeted them, his voice solemn. “Please, sit.”

 

Neither of them moved at first, but Dumbledore stepped past them both to take a seat in one of the armchairs near the fire. Sirius and Andi glanced at each other, and without Andi releasing Sirius’s arm, the two of them sank down onto the sofa across a low coffee table. They waited. Sirius realized he was holding his breath, and released it slowly.

 

Dumbledore sighed, and the firelight moved across his half-moon spectacles. “I have it on good authority that Regulus is dead.”

 

Sirius thought he heard Andromeda gasp. He stared at Dumbledore, uncomprehending. “What?”

 

Dumbledore folded his hands in his lap. “I am not sure of the exact circumstances, but from what I have gathered, Regulus did something to anger Voldemort, and --”

 

“And Voldemort had him killed?” Andi’s voice sounded small to Sirius, and when he looked at her it was as if she was shrinking into his side. “He’s dead?”

 

“I am sorry.” Dumbledore nodded. “I have had no word on the location of his remains, but I am attempting to recover them. I wanted the both of you to hear it from me first.”

 

Andi started to shake, and Sirius could feel her nails digging into the skin of his arm through his sleeve. “Oh my God…”

 

Sirius knew, on some level, that he should move to comfort her, should wrap his other arm around her, he should say something, do something. But he couldn’t. Bile was rising in his throat, and he swallowed it down, viciously, clenching his jaw and staring up at the ceiling.  _ Straighten your back, square your shoulders _ .

 

For a few moments, the only sounds were Andi’s harsh breaths sharpening into sobs, and then Dumbledore spoke again. “I shall leave you two alone. You may of course remain here as long as you need. Sirius, please do not feel as if you need to attend the meeting tonight.”

 

Neither of them responded, and Dumbledore stood and quietly made his way to the door. Sirius heard the latch click behind him, but still he didn’t move. Beside him, Andi doubled over, the sounds of her grief choking her.

 

Finally, Sirius couldn’t keep it in any longer. “This is my fault.”

 

“W-what?” Andi gasped, sitting up and wiping her sleeve across her face.

 

Sirius couldn’t look at her. “You told me not to give up on him. And I did. I left him. I left him there with all of them.”

 

“No!” Andi cried, and Sirius felt her shudder as she fought for control of her breathing. “Don’t do that, Sirius. You  _ can’t _ do that.”

 

“We were supposed to make it out.” Sirius let the words slide through his numb lips. “This was supposed to end, and we were supposed to make it out.”

 

From the corner of his eye he saw Andi’s face crumple again. “I know,” she breathed, reaching out a hand to place her palm against her cheek. 

 

“I let him die.” There was something lodged in Sirius’s throat, and flames prickled at the backs of his eyes.

 

“Sirius, no.” Andi drew him down, and he found himself resting his head in the crook of her neck like he hadn’t done since he was a very small child. “Voldemort killed him. This isn’t your fault.”

 

Sirius swallowed hard, but it didn’t matter. The tears burned down his face, and he turned into her, feeling the hole in his chest claw itself bigger, as if it would consume him from the inside out, as if it would swallow him whole. His brother. His little brother, and he had let him die.

 

“Hush, now.” Andi wrapped her arms around him, anchoring him to her, and he shut his eyes, trying to bottle it, trying to hide himself in her collar. “You didn’t do this, Sirius. You tried to save him. You  _ tried _ .”

 

“It wasn’t enough,” he ground out.

 

She didn’t reply except to hold him tighter.

 

**November 1981**

It was the second time in less than three years that Andromeda had been summoned to the Hogwarts headmaster’s office with no explanation. 

 

She stepped out of the fireplace in Horace Slughorn’s office and was greeted by the man himself, predictably wrapped luxurious velvet robes. “Miss Black! My dear, it’s lovely --”

 

“It’s Mrs. Tonks,” Andromeda snapped, barely pausing to brush the ash from her robes. “And I’m sorry I can’t stop to chat. Professor Dumbledore wants to see me.”

 

Slughorn nodded. “Yes, he told me. But as I say, it’s wonderful to see you again. Will you stop for supper with me on your way out?”

 

“Sure,” Andromeda agreed, and made a mental note to leave through the entrance hall. “Now, Professor, if you’ll excuse me…”

 

“Of course,” Slughorn said genially. “I shall see you soon then, shall I?”

 

Andromeda muttered something that sounded like assent as she pulled the door open and strode out into the corridor. Her footsteps echoed through the empty halls as she folded her arms and sped up. Vaguely, she supposed that it was the middle of a class period, and she was grateful to not encounter anyone as she almost ran through the castle. 

 

“Sugar quill,” she gasped at the gargoyle statue, and it hopped aside to admit her to the spiralling staircase. She let it carry her as she tried to center herself, to prepare herself.  _ Deep breaths _ , she reminded herself.  _ Straighten your back, square your shoulders _ .

 

The staircase finally brought her to the landing and the door with the brass knocker. She took one more deep, shuddering breath, letting the deja vu wash over her, before she braced her hand on the door and pushed it open.

 

Remus Lupin was the last person she expected to see, but there he was, sitting hunched over in one of the chairs in front of the desk, clasped hands dangling down between his knees. He looked up when she entered. “Andi.”

 

“Hi,” she said cautiously, entering the office and shutting the door behind her. “Do you know where Dumbledore is?”

 

He shook his head and stood. “I just got here about a minute ago, through McGonagall’s office. But she wasn’t there.”

 

Andromeda walked slowly towards him, feeling something heavy settle in the air around them. “So you don’t know what this is about, then?”

 

Remus ran a hand over his face. “I was hoping you did.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “It can’t be about Sirius, or James would be here.”

 

Andromeda paled. “So… you haven’t heard from Sirius recently either?”

 

Remus stared at her, and she watched the horror slowly dawn on his face. But before either of them could speak, the fireplace lit up green, and the tall thin figure of Albus Dumbledore emerged from it. Remus and Andromeda were both silent as they watched him straighten up and brush the soot from his robes, and when he surveyed them, Andromeda thought it was with something like pity. “Remus, Andromeda,” he greeted them, his voice low. “Thank you both for coming. Please, sit.”

 

Andromeda did not move. “Where’s Sirius?” she demanded.

 

“Andromeda…”

 

“Is he -- is he dead?”

 

Dumbledore laid a hand on his desk. “No, he is not. But he has been arrested.”

 

“ _ What _ ?” shouted Andromeda.

 

Remus stepped forward and demanded, “On what charge?”

 

Dumbledore’s eyes flickered back and forth between them. “Being a Death Eater. And thirteen counts of murder.”

 

Two seconds of ringing silence followed. Andromeda stared at Dumbledore. It was a joke, it had to be.

 

“That doesn’t…” said Remus, slowly. “Sir, that doesn’t make any sense.”

 

Dumbledore sighed. “I have been aware for several months now that we had a spy inside the Order of the Phoenix, and, as we all know, Lord Voldemort had decided to specifically target James, Lily, and Harry Potter. In secret, I advised James and Lily to protect themselves with the Fidelius Charm. I offered to be their Secret Keeper myself, but James insisted on using Sirius.”

 

“No,” Remus said suddenly, and Andromeda saw him shake his head. “Sir… no.”

 

Dumbledore continued as if Remus had not spoken. “Late last night or early this morning, Lord Voldemort arrived in Godric’s Hollow and entered the Potters’ cottage. Voldemort’s power seems to have broken, and I believe we are rid of him for the time being, but...” He hesitated, and now faced Remus fully. “Remus, I am sorry. James and Lily are dead.”

 

Remus staggered, and Andromeda automatically moved to him. She caught his forearm and directed him to the chair he had just been occupying, and he collapsed into it, trembling.

 

She looked up at Dumbledore. “Sirius didn’t sell them out. He wouldn’t. He would never.”

 

With what looked like every bit of strength he could summon, Remus lifted his head. “And Harry?” he asked, hoarsely.

 

“He is alive,” Dumbledore answered gently, ignoring Andromeda. “I sent Hagrid to fetch him. He is to be placed with his aunt and uncle -- Lily’s sister and her husband. He is to have no further contact with the magical world, for his own safety.”

 

Despite the glaze that was coming over his eyes, which Andromeda recognized as a symptom of shock, Remus’s brow furrowed. “But…”

 

“We can discuss this later if you wish, Remus,” Dumbledore cut across him. “But I am afraid there is more.” He now faced Andromeda, but did not meet her eyes. “A few hours ago, Peter Pettigrew found Sirius in Muggle London and challenged him to a duel. From all accounts, Sirius cast a curse on him, the nature of which has yet to be determined. But Peter is dead, and the curse was powerful enough to kill twelve Muggle bystanders.”

 

Remus let out a sound that was barely human and buried his face in his hands, but Andromeda was already shaking her head. “Sir, forgive me, but there must have been some sort of mistake! Sirius  _ hates _ the Death Eaters. He hates everything they stand for. He would never join them, and he would certainly never try to kill Peter Pettigrew!”

 

“He surrendered to the arresting officers, Andromeda. He went quietly, without anything remotely approaching a fight,” Dumbledore said, somber. “And there are multiple eyewitness accounts --”

 

“Well they all made a mistake!” Andromeda was shouting now. Something in her was shaking apart. “Sirius is  _ not _ a Death Eater!”

 

Again, Dumbledore sighed. “The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement has taken Sirius’s voluntary surrender to be an admission of guilt, and he has decided that there will not be a trial. Sirius is to be sent to Azkaban.”

 

Andromeda’s heart jumped in her throat. “ _ No! _ Sir -- you can’t --” she gasped. “You can’t let Crouch do that to him! You’re the head of the Wizengamot!  _ Demand _ a trial for him!”

 

“Andromeda, I am deeply sorry. Truly.” Dumbledore reached a hand out for her. “But the world has suffered for nearly ten long years now. If Sirius was the spy, then I see no reason to prolong this nightmare. We all deserve an ending. We all deserve to begin to heal.”

 

“Sir.” Andromeda sniffed and dabbed her fingers under her eyes, then lifted her chin, defiant. “I do not believe you. I refuse to believe you. He wouldn’t do this. He loved James like a brother, he loved Lily, and he loved that little boy as if he were his own son.  _ He would not have done this _ .” She spun to face Remus. “Tell him.”

 

Remus did not glance up from the floor, and it dawned on Andromeda as she stared at him sitting there, slumped in his chair as if he had just been told that the world had ended, that she had lost him too. “Apparently he  _ would _ have done this,” he said, in a voice so quiet she barely heard him.

 

“Remus,” she whispered. “You  _ know  _ him.”

 

He did look at her then, and she almost gasped when she saw his lifeless eyes. “James and Lily… and Peter… they’re all dead, Andi.” She winced at the nickname Sirius had given her in his infancy, that she had so grudgingly allowed his friends to adopt for her. “No, I don’t know him. I guess I never did.”

 

Andromeda stared from Remus to Dumbledore and back again. She could feel her lungs working, struggling to drag air into her body. “He can’t have done this. Please.” She was begging Dumbledore now, and she didn’t care. “ _ Please _ . Stop this.”

 

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. “It is for the best, Andromeda. I wish I could tell you how deeply sorry I am.”

 

She knew then, staring at him, that it was over. And she’d be damned if she would cry in front of him.  _ Straighten your back, square your shoulders.  _ Abruptly, she turned on her heel and strode away from them both.

 

Before she walked out the door, she turned and glared at Dumbledore, hating him for standing there and looking so calm. “I will never forgive you for this, ever,” she swore. “He didn’t do this, and you’re sending him to hell. I promise you I will not forgive you.”

 

Dumbledore said nothing as he watched her. With one last glance at Remus’s shattered form, she wrenched the door open and slammed it shut behind her.

 

She would not let either of them see her fall apart.

 

**July 1993**

 

Ted didn’t greet her with his customary cheery “Good morning!” when she came down the stairs on July 31st. Instead, he stood the moment she came into view and waved a copy of the Daily Prophet at her. “Have you seen this?” he demanded.

 

Andromeda raised her eyebrows. “No, dear, given that I just woke up.”

 

Ted huffed impatiently. “Sass me later, Dromeda. Look at this.”

 

Still eying him skeptically, Andromeda took the paper from him. She lowered her gaze to the headline, and her breath caught in her throat. 

 

_ BREAKOUT AT AZKABAN. _

 

Slowly, she smiled.

  
  



End file.
